Jenny Shi (17)
Father Don’t Fly
To marinate in the sun,
who sloshes rays of fishing line,
the kind I slipped in lake
looking for something
to turn silence to highway. Father,
the traffic lights pretend to be suns
until there’s no room
for you in the sky,
so we wait with our teeth,
and they wrinkle—I should memorize.
Father, I close the years they hold
you say I’m lying—
you never grow old, only small.
Soon you’ll fit in the corner
of your eye I scaffold
to cross bridges home.
So you move backwards,
but that means
you must move for something. I don’t know what
you’re after, I’ll follow you
anyway. What you use
to wash the sun, I’ll use.
What things you cradle away,
I’ll hold.
What you touch—corona smoldering red—
belongs in the dirt,
not here. Not in the blue and white sky.
I wouldn’t mind falling from sky
but I melt in showers instead
when I reach you.
Jenny Shi is a senior at Palo Alto High School in California. A recent graduate of Fir Acres Writing Workshop, Jenny has blossomed into the world of poetry. Prior to that, she won a Scholastic Art and Writing award for a nonfiction essay (she prefers poetry). Additionally, she is a visual artist whose knowledge of the sciences seeps into her brushes. Jenny speaks three languages, English, Mandarin, and Spanish, and her favorite food is any kind of noodle.
Father Don’t Fly
To marinate in the sun,
who sloshes rays of fishing line,
the kind I slipped in lake
looking for something
to turn silence to highway. Father,
the traffic lights pretend to be suns
until there’s no room
for you in the sky,
so we wait with our teeth,
and they wrinkle—I should memorize.
Father, I close the years they hold
you say I’m lying—
you never grow old, only small.
Soon you’ll fit in the corner
of your eye I scaffold
to cross bridges home.
So you move backwards,
but that means
you must move for something. I don’t know what
you’re after, I’ll follow you
anyway. What you use
to wash the sun, I’ll use.
What things you cradle away,
I’ll hold.
What you touch—corona smoldering red—
belongs in the dirt,
not here. Not in the blue and white sky.
I wouldn’t mind falling from sky
but I melt in showers instead
when I reach you.
Jenny Shi is a senior at Palo Alto High School in California. A recent graduate of Fir Acres Writing Workshop, Jenny has blossomed into the world of poetry. Prior to that, she won a Scholastic Art and Writing award for a nonfiction essay (she prefers poetry). Additionally, she is a visual artist whose knowledge of the sciences seeps into her brushes. Jenny speaks three languages, English, Mandarin, and Spanish, and her favorite food is any kind of noodle.